It was a sunny and warm May afternoon as I sat staring out the window, trapped in my senior chemistry class with little hope of sneaking out early. Only one week of school remaining and then I’ll be free. Graduation! I’ve looked forward to this day for … well since I can remember, and it’s almost here. I just have to get through finals, and while I am a pretty good student, it has been difficult, if not impossible of late keeping my mind on studies. It seems I am daydreaming more and more. Mostly dreaming about how I am going to spend my last summer before I head off to college. But I’m also thinking about my mom. I wonder how she is going to get along without me. I’ve been the man of the house since my dad left almost five years ago and now I will be leaving her too. The thought is so depressing that it has nearly ruined my excitement over the end of twelve long years of school.
Sure, Mom says she’ll be fine. She always says that. But I know how much she depends on me. Although she is still young at 37 (I was born when she was 19) and, if I say so myself “hot”, she doesn’t date or have a man around, other than me, to fix things and take care of the car and such. Keeping the house running is my job and I don’t mind the responsibility. In fact, I love it. She and I have a very special relationship and are very close—we are more like friends than mother and son. We have leaned on each other exclusively over the past few years; through my adolescence crises and her more important adult concerns … like how we were going to pay the bills.
When Dad ran off with his secretary, he left us nothing, and even worse, Mom was emotionally crushed and for a long time I hated him for that. He burst my bubble of a happy family and hurt my mom terribly. But I don’t hate him anymore. His leaving is the reason my mother and I grew so close. Since he’s been gone, I’ve made sure she didn’t miss him. At least in all the ways a young boy can act as the man of the house. I learned to fix things, helped with finances by getting a part time job to pay for clothes and minor school expenses, and just being there when she needed someone’s shoulder to cry on. And she did plenty of that. I have a couple of shirts on which she shed her tears and, although I should throw them out, they are still in my closet as a reminder that I never want to hurt her like that. Oh, and yes I’m just a little embarrassed to say that I also have a couple pair of her panties hidden in my dresser that I stole from the hamper.
As I said, my mother is hot, and if you haven’t guessed already, I have a major crush on her. She is gorgeous and not just because I say so. All of my buddies say she is by far the hottest and coolest mom of any they know. She’s about five-six with large round eyes that change from an aqua blue to sky blue depending on the outfit she is wearing, and they twinkle like stars. She keeps her dyed red hair at shoulder length and curled under stylishly. Her figure is perfect, but I will tell you more about that in a moment. At 37 she easily passes for her late 20’s. Some say we could pass for brother and sister; and of course she loves it when I tell her that.
On her 37th birthday I surprised her with a birthstone ring and necklace. She had no idea that I was getting her anything, but I had saved up my extra spending money—seven hundred dollars—and spent it all. I know she liked the necklace and ring because she said so when we saw it at a jewelry store at the mall one afternoon. I worked hard to save up the money and purchasing the ring and necklace was probably the most exciting moment of my life up to that time. I had it specially wrapped at the store in pretty paper with a red bow.
When I gave it too her she began to cry. For a moment I thought I had made a big mistake. But her tears were tears of joy. She said I shouldn’t have spent so much money but she loved it and loved me. That statement alone made it all worth it. She said she was going to wear the ring always. I was surprised when she put it on her left ring finger where she used to wear a wedding band. That was special to me as well.
I guess it is time to admit that I have been fantasizing about my mom a lot lately. Recently I actually got the nerve to spy on her. I had resisted the incredible sexual hormones raging in me until I accidentally saw her undressing in her bedroom. I went to her room to ask if she needed anything before I went to bed. Her door was opened just a crack. Before I could knock, I saw her standing near her vanity. I had seen her in her nightgowns and such and she had seen me in my underwear plenty of times, but this was the first time I had seen her totally naked. I still have the image of her slim waist and tapered hips with the smooth perfect white skin of her ass burned into my memory bank. I don’t think I have ever seen a more perfect ass.
When she bent over to pick up her panties my heart almost jumped out of my chest when I realized that I could see the lips of her pussy between her slightly spread thighs. And, incredibly, she didn’t have a speck of pubic hair, none—baby smooth. The inner lips were pale pink and hung between the smooth shaven outer lips like the delicate petals of a rose … a gorgeous pink rose with the petals shimmering with morning dew. The outer lips were puffy flesh colored mounds and seemed to strain to contain her longer inner lips.
I watched with mounting guilt and excitement as she sat down and began to sensuously rub cream on her large but still firm breasts. She rubbed the cream over the upper portion of her breasts and then moved down, pausing to work it into the impossibly hard nipples until they were shiny and slick.
Then she poured more onto her hands and placed the palms under the two large orbs and lifted and kneaded the flesh. I thought I heard a sigh of pleasure, but it might have come from my own lips.
I stood transfixed, my eyes as wide as saucers as I watched her. This might sound naive coming from an eighteen year old boy, but it was at that moment that I knew that I loved my mother; but not like a son. I also realized that no woman would ever entirely take her place in my heart. I know some would say it is just adolescent fantasy, or more specifically sexual fantasy, and that a lot of kids fantasize about their mothers or their high school teacher etc., but that wasn’t me. I never had a crush on a teacher, or any other older woman for that matter.
I remember how excited I was that day; so excited that I had to take my swollen cock out of my pants or risk cumming in my underwear. I fought hard not to climax, not only because I felt guilty, but also because I wanted the chills of excitement running through me to last. I wanted to watch her forever. When she stood up and stretched her arms over her head, I couldn’t hold out any longer.
My cum hit the door so hard that I swore she heard the splat. My knees almost buckled as I fought to remain conscious. Of all the times I had masturbated in my life, and there have been plenty, this was by far the best one. It left me feeling drained and dizzy. When I opened my eyes I saw my mother sitting on her stool again, looking into the mirror with an odd smile on her face. I was petrified that she had seen me, so I scurried away like a roach in the kitchen when the lights come on.
I felt very guilty for a long time about that night, but not guilty enough not to do it again and again. From that point on, I took every opportunity to spy on my mother. I took big risks too. I put a small strip of rubber on the frame of the bathroom and bedroom doors so that they wouldn’t shut all the way. She asked me many times to fix them, but somehow I never got around it. Then, almost every night I would slip down the dark hallway to watch as she undresses for her bath or sits at her vanity to perform her nightly ritual before she goes to bed. Sometimes, if I am very lucky, I see her doing naughty things, on the bed or in the bathtub. At that point I lose control and I stoke my cock with a pair of her panties until I climax.
Did I say what gorgeous breasts she has? I know I would never grow tired of looking at those beautiful tits. Even when she is dressed I often find myself staring at them … so round and soft with a sexy giggle as she moves. Sometimes she catches me looking, but she never seems angry. More recently, when she sees me staring, she just shakes her head and smiles like she did when I was a little boy and got caught raiding the cookie jar.
“Jerry Moss, can you finish the formula on the board for the rest of the class?”
I was suddenly awakened from my daydream. “I … uh … I uh …”
The teacher stared at me and waited. The rest of the class broke out in gales of laughter. My face turned three shades of red. “I wasn’t paying attention,” I admitted.
“Well, at least you admit it. You had better listen up because this is going to be on the final,” Mr. Henson pointed out. “And that goes for the rest of you seniors.” To my great relief, that brought the still snickering students back around and took the focus off me.
After the final bell, I walked outside to feel the warmth of the late-spring sun on my face. There was a gentle breeze and several passing puffy white clouds cast a brief shadow across the sidewalk … spring fever had me tightly in its grip. As I walked unhurriedly down the sidewalk I looked up. A wide smile came to my face when I saw my mother waiting at the curb for me. She was driving my old door-less and topless Jeep that she had helped me purchase for my eighteenth birthday. I had eyed that vehicle at old Mr. Jenkins used car lot for quite some time. It had sat there for months as I tried to save the two thousand dollars to buy it before someone else did. However, the present to my mom for her birthday had totally depleted my funds. When she said she would help me purchase it, I was so incredibly excited. I put in a lot of extra hours at the pizza joint, but without her help I could never have afforded it. Now I am the envy of all my friends. When I don’t take the Jeep to school—due to a shortage of gas money, Mom will drive it and thankfully fill the tank. She says driving the Jeep makes her feel young. Her car is a ten-year-old minivan she got before my dad left. Some days, like today, she comes to pick me up from school when she has a day off or can get off early from work.
I never mind my mom showing up at school like some kids do. Most of them would be horrified if their parents came to school for any reason. Not me. I love for my friends to see my mom. I am so proud of her. Not only is she gorgeous, but she’s smart too. When I was young she earned her teaching credentials and taught school for almost ten years. But Dad wanted her to be a “stay at home mom”, so she quit. I think she misses teaching a lot. Then when Dad left, she applied for a teaching job, but due to budget cuts at the state level, none were available. To make ends meet, she took a job at a large marketing firm as a low level administrative assistant. After only a couple years she became a senior marketing executive. She says that she was just in the right place at the right time, but I know better. She earned everything she has gotten.
My mom has worked hard for her success, but she says dressing professionally, and just a little sexy, is important too. She does both in a stylish way. Under her business suits she wears pretty blouses with lace and frills and not the man-ish shirts that some businesswomen chose to wear. Some of Mom’s tops are cut low in front, exposing just a hint of her cleavage under the lace fringe. She said she wears those when she needs to make a good impression on some of her male clients. I know it works on me.
And now here she was waiting at the curb for me. I waved to a couple of my guy friends, who happened to be staring at my mother, and rushed over and hopped into the passenger side of the Jeep.
“How was school?” she asked.
“Boring,” I replied as I leaned over and kissed her on the lips. I like kissing her on the lips. Her lips are always moist and she has started wearing lipstick with subtle flavors. Actually that’s how we first started kissing on the lips. She told me one day that she was wearing a new lipstick with flavor. I surprised her by kissing her on the lips to taste it. From then on we have always kissed on the lips, and when she has that lipstick on it is a game for me to guess the flavor. I guessed Strawberry today.
“Nope,” she said just a tad flustered it seemed.
“Let me try again.” Before she could protest I leaned close and kissed her a second time, letting my lips linger on hers for a moment longer then the first time.
She pulled away and said, “Jerry, not here. Your friends might see.”
“I don’t care if they do.”
“I do,” she said firmly, but I could see a twinkle in her eye.
“All right, but you have to let me try again when we get home.”
She didn’t answer, but instead changed the subject. “There’s only another week of school left. Are you ready for your finals?”
“Yeah, I know this stuff. Besides, I could flunk the final in almost every class and still get a ‘B’.”
“Well, don’t do anything that would jeopardize the scholarship.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that.”
She looked thoughtful and as if she didn’t hear me said, “I could probably scrape up enough to get you through for a couple of years, but I’d rather use that money for other things.”
“Like that nice vacation you promised me if I got the scholarship?” I said, as if I needed to remind her.
“That’s already set up and mostly paid for.”
My ears perked up. “Paid for? Where are we going?”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Ah, Mom, come on, you can’t leave me hanging like this.”
“Sorry, after finals.”
“Damn,” I said, but smiled. She smiled back and my heart fluttered.
I had been so excited to see her there to give me a ride home that I hadn’t noticed what she was wearing. It was a warm day so she had on a pair of white short shorts that left most of her thighs uncovered. On top was a tight jersey that hugged her breasts like a second skin. She did have on a bra, but it was one of those natural ones that gave only a tad of support … she didn’t need any more than that. I could see her hard nipples poking through. I wondered if the kiss had caused that. It certainly wasn’t because the weather was cold. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t have worn that outfit if she had to get out of the car for any reason. She apologized for her outfit and said she was working around the house and had been running late so she didn’t have time to change. I didn’t mind at all.
She saw me staring at her hardened nipples and blushed before starting the Jeep and quickly pulling away from the curb.
It was Friday and we typically rented a video and ordered pizza in. She had taken the day off and spent it lying in the warm sun adding to her already nice tan. She had been visiting a tanning salon for a few weeks so I figured our vacation was going to be somewhere with a beach and lots of sun. That was fine with me. We both like the sailing, skin diving, and snorkeling.
“What are we going to rent tonight?” she asked.
“We had a chick flick last week. I want something that has lots of shooting and things blowing up,” I replied with a laugh.
Mom sighed. “Okay, but not another Bruce Willis thing.”
“You know you love those movies,” I joked.
“Well, the last one where he jumped off the bridge onto the wing of the jet fighter was a little over the top.”
“You mean people don’t do that?” I said facetiously.
“Not normal people.”
“Okay, I’ll get something that’s not too violent. I’ll give you one of my famous foot massages while we watch,” I offered.
“Mmmm,” she said. “It’s been too long since you last gave me a foot massage.”
We stopped at Blockbuster and I picked up “The Bourne Supremacy.” A little less violent then the Bruce Willis movies, I figured. I had seen it at the theater a few months earlier.
When we arrived home and walked into the house, I stopped my mother by grabbing her arm. She turned and looked at me with surprise. “Lipstick,” I said. She had forgotten. I hadn’t.
I leaned forward and touched my lips to hers. I was close enough that I could feel her soft breasts touch my chest. My heart began to pound as I tried to hold my breathing steady. Her lips were opened just a bit. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but in that time I moved my lips across hers, under the pretext of making sure I got a good taste of her lipstick. When I pulled back, I was almost trembling. When I looked at my mom, I saw that her eyes were closed. Her lips were open and I could see that she was breathing more rapidly. Her nipples were hard again. I suddenly wondered if my mother was feeling the same stirrings that I had been feeling for so long. That was too much to ask, I thought.
“Raspberry,” I whispered, almost breathlessly.
Mom opened her eyes as if she had forgotten what we were doing. Her face flushed as a pink blush came to her cheeks. She looked confused for a moment. “Uh … uh … nope, not raspberry.”
“I guess I’ll have to try again later,” I said. I figured it would be going to far if I tried to kiss her again, as much as I wanted to at that moment.
“Uh … yes,” she said, still a little flustered. “I have some things to do now.”
“I’ll order the pizza at 6 and we’ll watch the movie at seven,” I said.
“Okay,” she returned, taking a deep breath before turning and heading upstairs.
We busied ourselves around the house for the next couple of hours. A while later I saw my mom pass my room on her way to take her bath. I waited a few minutes and then crept down the hall. I peeked into the bathroom from the darken hallway just in time to see her bend over to step into the steaming tub. I hadn’t seen her for a week or so and I was surprised to see how tanned she was. In fact, she was tanned all over. There were no bathing suit marks either upper or lower. I watched as she sat in the tub and washed, but I didn’t pull my cock out of my pants. I wanted to wait. Our Friday nights together were always fodder for my masturbatory fantasies. While nothing sexual had happened in the past, we typically sat close together and I would often put my arm over her shoulder and let her lean into me. That was enough to make me excited. We always kept the lights off, which gave me the protection to hide my seemingly ever-present erection.
I broke away from watching my mother when I saw her look toward the door. I went to my room and took my shower and loaded the movie into the DVD player downstairs. The pizza was steaming and sitting on the coffee table, along with a bottle of chilled red wine, when my mother finally came down. She smiled when she saw the wine and two glasses. She usually let me have a couple glasses as long as I wasn’t going out afterward. I never went out after our Friday night movie. I had no interest in going out with the boys or even a girlfriend when I could spend the evening with my mother.
I had on a pair of boxer shorts and no shirt. I often ran around in my underwear; after all they were almost like swim trunks anyway. Mom was wearing a robe and her hair was wet. I couldn’t tell if she had anything on underneath the robe. My imagination ran wild with the possibility that she was naked.
“I had to wash my hair after being at the salon. It was all greasy. I need to dry it before we start watching the movie, okay?”
“Sure. Let me do it,” I said, reaching for the blow dryer she had in her hand.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’d love to,” I said, quickly plugging the dryer into a wall outlet. “Here sit on the floor between my legs,” I said as I sat on the sofa and spread my legs.
“Wow, this is special treatment.”
“It is. So are you going to tell me where we are going on vacation?”
My mother giggled and said, “Ah, so that’s what this is all about.” She reached over and poured two glasses of wine and sat back, handing me one. “I knew there was a method to your madness.”
“Do you think I’m that shallow to resort to such trickery?”
She turned and looked up at me with a smile and said, “Yes, you would.”
I took a quick gulp of wine and sat the glass down on the coffee table. “Okay, you’re right,” I laughed. “Now tell me.”
“Nope, after finals. And that’s final.”
“Damn,” I said a second before I turned on the hair dryer. I began to blow dry her hair. I used one hand to fluff it up as I waggled the dryer over the back and then the top of her head. She leaned her head back so that her neck was touching the sofa between my legs as she sipped her wine. I squeezed my legs together until I was touching her arms on both sides. I could feel her warmth through the bathrobe. I could smell the fresh washed fragrance of her hair and the lavender soap she had used in her bath. The combination began to have an effect on me and I felt myself becoming excited. My cock began to grow down the leg of my shorts and was in an uncomfortable position. I wanted to reach down and move it, but there was no way to do that without her knowing. Then suddenly she adjusted the position of her head, pressing it against my trapped erection. I froze.
“Mmmm,” she murmured, probably as a result of me running my fingers through her hair. “Maybe you should be a hairdresser,” she joked.
I had to do something with my erection so I lifted her head and moved back a bit trying to get more comfortable. I almost sighed in relief as my erection flipped upward to a more natural position. I said, “If all my customers were as sexy as you I would.”
Her response was a murmur of approval. I knew she liked it when I complimented her. Without a husband around she probably didn’t hear too many honest compliments. Certainly not at her highly competitive work environment where she said backstabbing and sabotage are the order of the day.
As I worked on her hair, I glanced over her shoulder and saw that she was resting her nearly empty wine glass on her bare knee. The robe had slipped off her legs and had slid to the floor between them. I could see her thighs, all the way to the top of her hip. The sight of her tanned thighs was enough to keep my cock throbbing in my shorts. I could see goose bumps on her inner thigh as I put the dryer down and began to massage her head. I knew there was going to be a wet spot on the crotch of my underwear, but I was far too excited to worry about that.
I reached over and filled her wine glass again. Before she could move I slipped my hands down to her shoulders and under the top of her robe to rub her neck.
“Mmmm,” she murmured.
I slowly worked my hands outward and under the robe until I could massage her shoulders. My hands moved back and forth, squeezing her soft and warm flesh, digging my fingers gently into indentation at the nape of her neck.
“Oh, a hairdresser and masseur,” Mom said.
“Only for you.”
Without my mother realizing it, I began to push the robe outward until her shoulders were bare. The effect was to make the robe part down to the belt, which was tied around her waist. From her neck to the belt the robe was slightly open, revealing the soft swells of the inside of her breasts. If my mother realized what she was exposing, she gave no indication. I moved my hands sensuously across her shoulders, working hard to keep her attention from the opened robe. I knew if I pushed the robe just an inch more on one side or the other I would be able to see her nipple. With my heart pounding in my chest I pushed the right side further down with my little finger. It slipped from her shoulder and halfway down her arm.
Oh God, there it is, I screamed in my head. I could see an areola of one nipple, but not the tip. The robe was hanging on her pencil eraser sized nipple. My hands were trembling as I waited for it to fall, continuing to work into her muscles with my fingers. My mother moved her shoulder as if she was getting a cramp. The robe slipped lower and suddenly the entire nipple was visible, including most of her breast. I thought I would climax right then. My head was spinning. Yes, I had seen her breasts plenty of times, but not this close. It was within reaching distance.
Before I could do anything crazy my mother said, “Oops,” and casually pulled the robe back over her bared breast, but fortunately for me she left much of her cleavage exposed.
When I regained control, I leaned over and turned my mother’s head toward me. My lips moved down quickly until they were touching hers. She must have been stunned because she allowed my lips to remain on hers for several seconds. I grew bold and pushed my tongue out and ran it across her lips, before sinking into her mouth a fraction of an inch. I felt my cock lurch and spit pre-cum juice into my shorts.
Before she could protest, I pulled away and smacked my lips. “Hmmm, grape,” I said as if I had been tasting her lipstick.
My mother looked startled and said, “I don’t have flavored lipstick on.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, must have just been the wine on your lips” I said as I began to massage her shoulder again as if nothing had happened.
“Our pizza has gotten cold,” she said and sat forward before quickly standing up. “I’ll put it in the microwave.” With that she poured herself another glass of wine before taking the pizza into the kitchen.
I fell back on the sofa, my heart still thumping in my chest. My hand was shaking so much that I nearly spilled my wine as I brought it to my lips. I quickly downed the glass and poured another.
When Mom came back with the pizza, she had composed herself. Her robe was tightened at the waist and her face had lost some of the flush. The pinkness remaining on her cheeks was probably due to the wine. She put the pizza on the coffee table and sat down.
“I’ll get more wine,” I said as I stood up. Fortunately my erection had subsided somewhat. I picked up the nearly empty bottle. We normally only had one bottle on Friday nights. I quickly emptied the last into her glass and rushed off to the kitchen. When I returned she was eating a piece of pizza. I put the movie on and although there was plenty of room on the sofa, sat close to her with my thigh touching hers.
“Oh, you spilled something on your shorts,” she said when she saw the dark stain on my underwear.
My face turned red as I looked down. “Uh … yeah, I spilled a little wine and tried to wash it off in the kitchen,” I lied.
After all the insufferable previews, the movie finally flicked to life. I reached across my mother and turned off the lamp at the end of the sofa. Now the room was lit only by the glow of the TV screen. We sat quietly, watched the movie and ate the pizza. I don’t know about my mother, but I was very much aware of her thigh touching mine. I could feel the scorching heat of her body against my leg. When I had eaten a couple of slices of pizza and refilled our glasses again, I scooted away from my mother.
“Put your legs across mine and I’ll give you a foot massage,” I said.
“You really want to know where we are going on vacation. But I’m not going to tell you,” she giggled, her words just a tad slurred. The wine was starting to affect her.
I had completely forgotten about the vacation. It was the last thing on my mind at the moment. “Uh … yep, I do.”
She lifted her legs, stuffing the robe between them, and placed them across my legs. “Wait,” I said and rushed upstairs to her bedroom and brought back her favorite skin cream … the stuff she always uses on her breasts. I sat back down and brought her feet to my lap again, placing the heels in my crotch. I poured cream onto the top of her foot. As we watched the movie, I began to rub the cream between her toes and cross the top and bottom of one foot. I continued to massage her foot for some time. When I looked at my mother, her eyes were closed and her face serene.
Slowly I massaged one foot and then the other, moving her heels against my private parts. With a good half bottle of wine in me, I no longer cared to hide my erection. My stiff cock was lying directly under her heel now. As I massaged, I moved her foot back and forth, rubbing the heel up and down my shaft. Incredibly, when I paused to reach for my glass of wine, my mother’s foot continued to move back and forth without help from me. It was subtle, but quite noticeable. I looked at her and saw that her eyes were still closed, but her mouth was open and she seemed to be breathing faster. I took a gulp of wine and sat the glass down quickly. Instead of moving back to her feet, I began to massage the calf of her leg.
“Mmmm, Jerry,” she said, almost in a moan.
Pulling on her leg, I moved her foot higher on my stomach, forcing her legs open a bit. I strained my eyes to see between her thighs. The light just wasn’t good enough.
The calf of her other leg was moving sensuously across my now very hard cock. I wondered if she realized what she was doing. Yet, even in my alcohol-fogged brain, I figured that she must have known what I was doing.
I had to see between her legs. I adjusted my position on the sofa until I was closer to her with her thighs over mine. Boldly I pulled one leg further away from the other, moving my hand higher on her thigh as I did. Suddenly I could see the dark area between her thighs. I moved her leg slightly until the light from the TV brightened the dark area. I suppressed a gasp. I could see everything. She didn’t have panties on and I could clearly see her pussy lips. Even in the flickering light of the TV I could see that the inner lips were swollen and were covered with a sheen of glistening juice. My mother was excited … no doubt about it.
With a slight moan she moved her legs together, shutting off my view. Undeterred, I began to massage her thighs, using a small amount of skin cream as lubricant.
“Ohhhh,” my mother gasped as my left hand began to massage higher, gently working upward. Her head was back on the arm of the sofa and she was breathing heavily through her slightly opened mouth. The sexual tension in the dark room was strong enough to cut with a knife. My fingers slipped yet higher between her legs, kneading the soft and warm flesh inside her thighs, now only inches from her pussy.
Taking an incredible risk, I reached into my shorts and pulled my throbbing cock from the opening. Then I pulled the calf of my mother’s leg to my cock. I heard her moan, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she began to gently move her calf back and forth across my erection as she had done before, but this time there was no material between her leg and my cock … just bare flesh. It was an incredible feeling, better than any wet dream I had ever had.
I was almost out of my mind with excitement as I inched my fingers ever higher. The robe was opened almost to her crotch now. My head was spinning and my hands were shaking noticeably. I heard my mother whisper something.
It sounded like “Jerry … no.” I chose to ignore it when I felt her thighs tremble under my hand.
Suddenly the tips of my fingers were touching her pussy lips. Her body froze and her leg ceased moving. I couldn’t believe that I was touching my mother’s pussy. With the alcohol pulsing through my veins I grew bolder. With two trembling fingers I opened the inner lips, exposing her swollen clitoris. Although I had never actually had intercourse, I wasn’t a total novice. I had played with my girlfriends and used my fingers on them, but I had never seen anything like this. Her clit was huge. It looked like a miniature penis with a helmet covering the tiny shaft. It was quivering. “Oh my God,” I whispered under my breath. My mother was moaning quietly now and her hips had begun to move up and down.
Although I had never done it, I fought the sudden urge to try to kiss her pussy. I was certain that that would have ended whatever we were doing. Instead, I slowly slipped my middle finger into the warm and very wet opening. Her slick juices allowed my finger to move unimpeded.
“Ohhhh, nooooo, Jerry,” my mother gasped, but did nothing to stop me. In fact her hips lifted upward and her legs parted, taking my finger deeply into her body. I had never felt anything so wonderful. Yes I had had my finger in a few girls, but nothing this hot, soft, or wet. It was incredible. The warm walls caressed my finger, almost sucking it into her body. When it was in as far as possible, I began to gently rub her throbbing clit with my thumb.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” she gasped. Or was it “No, no, no.” Since her hips were now moving up and down to the movement of my finger I figured I could continue. Encouraged now, I slipped another finger inside and began to move them in and out more forcefully.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she whispered. Then, “Oh, oh, oh, oh.” The room suddenly filled with a sucking sound from my fingers moving in and out of her now flooding pussy. I could smell her excitement and it seemed that the room was beginning to spin. My eyes were wide as I stared at the juncture of my fingers and my mother’s pussy. She seemed tight, I thought, considering I had come from that opening eighteen years ago. The thought made my cock throb and it squirted more juice into my already sodden underwear.
Suddenly my mother grabbed my hand and pulled my fingers deeply into her. Her hips lifted from the sofa and her body froze. Little whimpers slipped from her mouth as her body trembled. I could feel her pussy clinching on my fingers, as if it was trying to pull them into her body. I couldn’t believe that I was finger fucking my mother and that I was making her climax. With each grunt of pleasure more juice poured across my fingers and hand until they were soaked with her pussy juice. If I had any doubts that I loved my mother like a man and not a son, they evaporated in that instant. If I had touched my cock, it would have exploded.
As my mother’s trembling slowed, I felt her pushing my hand away, assuming she wanted me to pull my fingers out. Instead, before my fingers were all the way out of her pussy, she pulled them back in, almost violently. Then pushed them out again. I quickly realized what she wanted and began to move my fingers in and out more forcefully. I moved my hand quickly, but I was ever aware that I didn’t want to hurt her. It didn’t take long before she was climaxing for the second time … or had it been one long climax. The squeezing inside her pussy had never stopped. She gasped and trembled, a continuous and plaintiff moan escaping her lips. The sweet aroma of her climaxing pussy made me dizzy with excitement.
It took several minutes before my mother finally released my hand. Then her body collapsed like a deflated balloon. I looked at my hand and saw it shining with her copious pussy juice. The sticky fluid was covering my fingers and my palm and there was even some on the backside of my hand. I hated the thought of having to wash that hand. I was trembling with excitement, but I didn’t know what to do. I fell back on the sofa, still gasping for breath. Then I felt my mother’s foot on my cock again. I looked over at her and although she appeared to be asleep and was breathing normally, her foot was moving ever so slightly.
I brought my hand down to the instep of her foot and rubbed her juices on my cock and then her foot. Then I gently grasped her foot, guiding it on my cock. Was she moving it, I wondered, or was it just motion from my pounding heart. Then I didn’t care anymore. I could feel my climax building. I held her foot to me, now moving it slowly upward and then downward.
The throbbing started deep in my soul. It was such a strange feeling, almost frightening. The pulsing was slow at first, but grew rapidly. Wanting it to last, I fought to hold back. It was a losing battle. I began lifting my hips from the sofa. I muffled a scream as my cock suddenly throbbed and shot a huge string of hot cum into the air. I had no idea where it went nor did I care at the moment. Another blast followed quickly and then another, and another. It felt as though my balls were going to implode as every ounce of cum squirted up the shaft.
When the last dribble was pumped out I fell back on the sofa. I turned to look at my mother and was relieved to see that she still had her eyes closed and appeared to be sleeping. Her foot was no longer moving … it had stopped at the last throb of my cock. I was a mess. My hand was covered in cum. It was on my leg and on the sofa as well. There was a good bit on the crown of my mother’s foot too. Feeling embarrassed I quickly grabbed some napkins and tried to clean up the mess I had made. Then I grabbed the pizza box and the remains of the wine and headed for the kitchen. I put the pizza and wine in the refrigerator. When I went back into the living room I was almost relieved to see that my mother was gone. I finished cleaning up and when upstairs. My mother’s door was closed. I went to bed and masturbated again before I fell into an exhausted sleep.
The sunlight streaking through the blinds awoke me the following morning. When I sat up I realized that, in addition to my piss hardon, I had an incredible throbbing headache. It must have been the wine. Then I remembered what had happened last night. A sudden veil of dread washed over me and I fell back onto the pillow. I threw my hands to my face. What had I done? I thought. I might have destroyed the most important relationship in my life. I didn’t think I could live with that. How was I going to face my mother? I knew that I had really screwed up this time.
I looked at the clock and saw that it was after 9 a.m. I had gone to sleep at about 10 last night, so I had been asleep for almost 11 hours and yet I felt I could go back to sleep. I forced myself to get up and take a shower. When I was dressed I reluctantly went downstairs to face my mother. I knew I had to do it sooner or later. I had formulated this big apology, all about how I had drank too much wine, and how I would never do that again if she could forgive me.
When I walked into the kitchen I found my mom washing out her coffee cup at the sink. I didn’t say anything as I sat at the kitchen counter.
“Oh, you’re finally up, sleepyhead,” she said with a cheerful smile.
That surprising smile brightened my day enormously. “Yeah, and I have one heck of a headache. I guess I drank too much wine last night,” I said, laying the groundwork for my apology.
“Too much wine will do that. A good cup of coffee and a couple of Advil will help. Been there a few times myself.”
I sat there stunned as she prepared me a cup of hot coffee as if nothing had happened last night. Yet, I knew it had. I could see her swollen and wet pussy every time I closed my eyes. It would have been a pleasnt image, but guilt forced me to try to banish it from my brain.
My mother walked over and sat the cup of coffee on the counter and laid a couple of Advil’s next to it. “I’m going to go to the gym with Gail and then I have some shopping to do. After that I need to run to the cleaners,” she said. “What are you doing today?”
I hadn’t noticed that my mother had on her exercise clothes. I don’t know how I missed it, because she looked great. Her legs were tanned and looked incredible in the tight shorts. I must have been staring because she said, “Earth to Jerry.”
“Oh, sorry. As soon as this headache goes away I’m going to try and clean out the garage like I’ve been promising for a month. Then I’ll do a little studying.”
“Sounds good. We can put some hamburgers on the grill tonight if you want.”
“Great,” I said enthusiastically. My enthusiasm was more about my mother’s bubbly disposition then about the burgers. She seemed to have totally forgotten about last night. If she blamed me for any of it, it wasn’t apparent. Then she leaned over and kissed me on the lips. It was such a surprise that I didn’t respond immediately.
“Still can’t guess, huh?”
I looked at her quizzically. Then it dawned on me. “Oh, the lipstick.” She must have had the same flavor on as she did yesterday. “Cherry.”
“Finally, but now that you’ve guessed it I’ll have to try another flavor,” she said with a smile. “Well, got to cover up these exercise clothes or I might get arrested going into the gym.” As she turned and walked out of the room I stared at her creamy thighs and ass in her tight shorts. She looked back at me but didn’t say anything, just smiled. Her smile lit up the entire room. I would have given a million dollars to know what she was thinking at that moment.
I smiled back and my heart started beating faster. God, how I loved her. It was so wrong, but there was nothing I could do about it. I don’t think we really have control over who we love, it just happens. I knew that it was not normal to love your mother like this. What I felt was the tingling, heart racing, butterflies in the stomach, kind of love.
Later that evening we sat close to one another on the back porch swing after eating, watching the sun go down. It was a beautiful sunset, but strangely it made me sad. The ever present thought that I would be going away to college after the summer vacation gnawed at my stomach. I was also thinking about what had happened last night. Neither of us had mentioned it and I was starting to wonder if it had just been a dream.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.
“You had a very sad look on your face.”
I didn’t look at her but said, “It’s just that I’ll be leaving in a couple of months.”
“You’ll only be five hundred miles away.”
“Right, ‘only’ five hundred miles,” I responded.
“I can come and visit on special weekends and you’ll come home on holidays.”
“Yeah, but … but how are you going to get … get along without me?” I asked, my eyes tearing and my voice cracking. A better question might have been; how was I going to get along without her?
My mother didn’t answer. But she reached over and took my hand, holding it gently without saying a word. I was pretty sure she was feeling the same as me.
“We’ll get along somehow,” she finally said without conviction. “Let’s take a walk down to the old barn before it gets dark.”
The “old barn” was a remnant of a previous owner who worked the property as a horse farm for years until his death. His children parceled the land and sold it in five-acre plots. The old barn was on our property so we often went to sit on bales of hay to watch the sun go down over the mountains. It was a special place for both of us and helped us both heal after Dad left.
My mother led me down the back steps toward a well-worn path that twisted through the woods to the barn. I loved the feeling of her warm hand in mine. There was a cool, gentle breeze rustling through the trees and the sky was crystal blue with a few clouds on the horizon to the west. I glanced over and saw that the breeze had made my mother’s nipples hard. I quickly looked away, chastising myself for the ever-present carnal thoughts about my own mother.
When we arrived at the barn, we sat down close to one another on bails of hay. The sun was close to slipping below the mountains and some dark clouds had begun to roll in. We could see what was left of the winter’s snow on the highest peaks. It was a gorgeous view and our special place where we could talk, or just sit and be together. I put my arm around her and pulled her close. She laid her head on my shoulder. Sometimes it wasn’t necessary to say a word.
After we had sat silently for some time I said, “Mom, are you sorry that you never found another man?”
“I have a man,” she said and squeezed my hand.
“You know what I mean. I’m not like a husband.”
“But you are my best friend.”
“And you’re mine, but that wasn’t my question.”
My mother sighed as she stared out of the barn toward the mountain. “Truthfully, when you were younger, it would have been a big help to have a man around the house. I mean you were a good boy, but I didn’t know much about raising a teenaged boy.”
“I think you did a great job.”
My mother smiled and placed her hand against my face. “I think so too. But it would have been nice to have a man around to teach you things … to have talks about things like girls and sex,” she said and blushed prettily.
“Don’t worry, us kids learn all we need to know from TV and the Internet.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said with a laugh.
I paused before asking the next question. “Did you want to have more children?”
It took her a few moments to answer. Finally she said, “Yes I did, back when you were ten or eleven, but your father was dead set against it.”
“It’s not too late … I mean you’re only 37 so you can still have them if you found someone. I’m sure with your looks, that would be incredibly easy.”
“Thanks. But I have you.”
“Come on, Mom,” I said.
“The truth is that I’m not sure I could have another child, even if I met someone.”
“Well, we tried for several years and nothing happened, so we gave up. Then your father left us. I figured it just wasn’t meant to be.”
Then I remembered something. One day my father was home from work and he had a doctor’s appointment. I went with him. I had asked what was wrong and he said nothing, he was there for a physical to get a vasectomy. He explained what that a vasectomy was so he and Mom wouldn’t have any more children. It didn’t mean much to me at that time. I couldn’t quite remember how old I was then, but I think I was nine or ten.
I must have had a perplexed look on my face because she said, “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to spoil the moment, and besides, I could have been wrong about my age. If he had had a vasectomy before they were “trying” to get pregnant, me telling her now would just rub salt into the wounds of their failed marriage. “Uh nothing, I was just thinking how nice it is to be here with you right now. It’s so peaceful here. I’m going to miss coming here with you when I’m gone.”
My mother looked into my eyes and I saw them begin to tear. As a lone tear spilled from her eye and began to trickle down her cheek I leaned over and gently wiped it off with my thumb. My hand rose almost without conscious thought and settled behind her neck. We stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed a long time. With very little urging from me her head began to move forward until our lips were just a fraction of an inch apart. Her eyes were closed as if waiting for me to kiss her.
Slowly I opened my mouth and touched hers. I heard a tiny whimper come from the back of her throat as our lips pressed together. Then it was my turn to moan when I felt my mother’s tongue slowly slip into my mouth. I began to tremble as I sucked her tongue, pulling her sweet tasting saliva into my mouth.
Without a conscious effort from either of us she was suddenly on her back with me pressed to her chest. Our lips were pressed firmly, yet tenderly, together as her tongue explored my mouth. My tongue pressed against hers, circling her slippery probe before slipping into her mouth. I heard a moan as she began to suck my tongue. My hand somehow ended up resting just below one breast. I felt her tremble as my fingers moved. They crept slowly upward until my hand covered one soft breast. My cock was throbbing so much that I thought I might climax. I actually had my hand on my mother’s breast! Before she could protest my fingers moved over her top and hooked under the elastic of her strapless tube top. Quickly I pulled it downward. My mother’s breath hissed into my still searching mouth as I bared her breast. I paused there for a moment to allow her to stop me. When she didn’t my hand covered her now bare breast.
“Mmmmm,” she gasped into my mouth.
Her breast was amazing. The skin was smooth and warm to the touch and the hard nipple felt as if it was on fire, threatening to scorch the palm of my hand. I circled my palm slowly around the nipple before placing it between my index finger and thumb. When I squeezed my mother gasped again. Her back arched and a loud moan came from deep in her throat.
I pulled away from her lips and began to kiss down her neck. She closed her eyes and rested her hand on the back of my head. I moved slowly, hoping upon hope that she wouldn’t stop me. I kissed down the smooth flesh of one globe and then pulled slightly back to look at the engorged nipple. With a whimper I dropped my head and took it into my mouth.
“Oh my God,” my mother gasped.
The taste of her sweet flesh was amazing and my cock throbbed in my pants. My juices were already soaking though my underwear. I opened my mouth wide and took as much of her breast into my mouth as I could before letting it slip out to grasp the nipple again.
I was sucking like a baby starved for milk when I felt my mother gently pushing my head. I thought it was over until she directed my mouth toward the other tit. I moaned as I began to suck the second tit. I worried the hard nipple before I gently bit down with my teeth. I heard her moan. The pulsing in my pants was very intense as I pushed my cock against her leg, moving my hips up and down. But before I could climax in my pants I felt her gently push my head back. I thought about resisting for a second but knew better. I released the tit and looked down at her flushed face.
She whispered, “The sun’s gone down, we had better get back.”
I didn’t press my luck. I squeezed her breast warmly one last time and then bent over and kissed the nipple before reluctantly pulling away and letting her sit up. Her distended nipple was shiny with my saliva. She casually pulled her top over her bare breast and stood up, reaching her hand down for me. I took it and arose to face her. Looking into her eyes I opened my arms. She stepped into my embrace and we hugged for a long time. I could feel her heart still beating rapidly. The thumping matched the rhythm of my own heart. I let my arms slide slowly down her back until I had both of her jeans covered ass cheeks in my hands.
I knew that she could feel my erection, which I didn’t try to hide this time. There was no indication that she minded and in fact it seemed that she was pressing her hips to me. It was almost too much for me and I had to pull away or again risk cumming in my pants.
We walked silently back to the house, hand in hand. My throbbing erection tented my pants, and there was a wet spot on my shorts, but I no longer felt embarrassed. It was a proud symbol of how I felt about my mother and I think she liked it.
end of part 01